


Shadows Bring Starlight

by LadyCallie



Category: Farscape
Genre: Episode Related, Extended Scene, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-07
Updated: 2007-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCallie/pseuds/LadyCallie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hot. She was so hot. (Spoilers for Promises)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows Bring Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lyrical Violet for her beta work.

_Still your heart says  
The shadows bring the starlight  
And everything you’ve ever been is still there in the dark night_

-Spring Awakening

* * *

  
Hot. She was so hot.

Too hot. Her hair clung to her scalp and forehead, dark strands heavy with sweat and grim. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d washed it. She reached up to push at the mass.

Her hands were shaking. She pressed her thumb and middle fingertips together, can barely feel them touch.

“One hundred and thirty microts Aeryn.” Pilot’s voice called though the comm clipped to her waist.

She would have replied, should have replied that she understood, but her body shuddered, another seizure rippling. She could feel the delirium closing in, like walls in a waste compactor, making thought harder, movement slower. Spots blurred her vision and she flung out an arm to steady herself, panting like a brindz hound. Moya’s warmth was cloying; her lungs pulled at the air, dull blade cutting deep inside with each breath.

“The pod has landed. Sealing outer doors.”

  
A low voice whispered to her, seduced her away from the darkness, called her back from the madness that lurked inside her, encased in black and leather, flesh and bone. It clung to her.

 “Officer Sun. You must meet them.” Gloved hands reach around her, grasp her elbows, guided her forward. She startled, sweat dripping down her brow, stinging her eyes, dripping off her nose. Too close, too hot. Blue eyes, _the wrong color blue eyes_, peered at her, concerned. They stopped walking. She blinked, her eyes felt gritty, heavy. Her vision blurred.

“Officer Sun.” He waited until she could focus on him. “Why are you here?” His voice was soft, kind.

Her body trembled, threatening to give out if she didn’t rest. “You—” Pain flared in her gut, curling her body inward. His hand on her arm flexed, shifting to support more of her weight. A dark gloved hand reached out and brushed against her cheek, soft as a lovers caress, and gathered the thick tangled mess of her hair. He pulled it back, and blew gently across her sticky sweaty neck. His breath was sweet, the hint of pava fruit lingering. It was also cool; a shallow wave of clarity broke over her fevered mind. “You saved me.” She breathed through her nose, “You brought me here.”

Scorpius gently unfurled her, bracing her back against one arm while supporting her left side with his body. It felt a little like walking in low gravity; her feet barely brushed the golden floor. They floated slowly down the corridor. “Very good. Do you remember the rest?”

  
He was treating her like a child and she was too weary to protest, too weak to honestly care. She simply nodded.

  
“Good. I will wait out here until you’ve spoken with Crichton.” He steadied her, gradually releasing her.

John. _Half smile, black shirt, green shirt, blue wormholes, red blanket, black space._

She reached out and touched the bay door. John. John was behind it. Her fevered mind grasped at memories, searing bright images. Most slipped away, leaving only emotions behind— fear, trust, pain, hope, love, sorrow, loss, desire, need. The taste of rain.

The door swung open, cooler air buffered her body, and she paused, soaking up the draft. Stilling the spinning, the madness in her mind for a microt. The air smelled of coolant, engine exhaust, the tang of hot metal. The transport pod. John. Scorpius.

  
John.

  
She stepped out of the shadows and froze; hands stiff and spaded at her sides. She’d forgotten how beautiful he was. John. In front of her. Pulling a weapon on her. Why? Her vision started to tunnel and he was her center, the eye of her storm, her one and only, her constant, her wormhole, her addiction, her cure. _Why had she left him?_

Her name falls from his lips, it sounds like a coin striking the ground. She blinks slowly. _That was yesterday… wasn’t it?_

“… you’ve come back.”

His image fussed, hot tears burning her eyes, her cheeks. She nodded. She came back but she was too hot. The Living Death. She smiles, delirium closing around her. This was not the reunion she’d imagined, but she can’t remember what she had wanted.

His eyes met hers. “Everything's going to be all right.”

She’s burning. He’s so close. A small cry escapes her. She’s breaking. She dying and she brought a monster back with her. An elegant monster, wrapped in shiny polished leather and black lies. Why did she do that?  She shakes her head, biting the inside of her lip. She doesn’t know which one is worse, him or her. The seizures in her belly begin again, the fire tearing at her chest and heart. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

  
He steps towards her, closer. “Everything… is gonna be…” He reaches for her, eyes open and bright and honest and hopeful and loving—_touching playing kissing caressing burning breathing living dying gone not gone John not John too much not enough not ever enough only ever Crichton._

She reaches back, grabbing his arm and falls, and he’s there, her deadweight pulling them down. She can barely feel him press his lips to her forehead. “Baby, you’re burnin up.”

He leans her back, cradling her, fingertips brushing hair off her face, his hand scalding against her damp skin.

“I’ve—” Her body struggles against the heat, shutting down. It’s hard to open her eyes. “I’ve got heat delirium.” She swallows, tongue think and dry. Her mouth tastes like dust and old bones. She chokes, heat in her chest, in her head. She is helpless, drowning, not in water—ice water— this time, but in fire, in him.

  
Maybe he’ll save her this time.

Save her from herself.

 


End file.
